


Kid

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: De-Aged Harry Potter, Gen, Not Slash, That seems wrong, cleverchild!Harry, seriously what is with all the de-aging fics filed under romance, sneakySOB!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-08
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Potion's "accident" turns Harry into an eight year old. Draco Malfoy begins planning his kidnapping/conversion to the Dark Side. But Harry's a passive-aggressive, revenge-obsessed little bastard. Maybe Draco will wait on that whole Dark Lord thing… Draco's POV. Fourshot. Kinda really AU. Snape is still teaching Potions, for one thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Required Accident

Ever since Longbottom's gleeful abandonment of Potions at the end of fifth year, Potter had become Hogwart's official Potions disaster. Draco knew this. Snape knew this. Passing Hufflepuffs knew this. The only people who apparently  _didn't_ know this were the OWL testing administrators, who had given Potter the grade he needed to show up that first day of class back in sixth year, the only positive result of which being that it kept the rest of them on their toes.

Though claiming that Potter was a disaster might be undervaluing Draco's part in Potter's general failure at the subject. Draco quietly considered this very valid point as Potter's potion exploded, hitting him full in the face with the greenish-brown sludge that had been the result of a well aimed chameleon tail, courtesy of one Draco Malfoy. It was also courtesy of several well timed ladybug shells earlier in the class, coupled with Potter's inability to evenly shred boomslang skin.

Draco was good enough in this subject to know that the potion would explode, and that it would not be lethal; he wasn't good enough to know that it would result in Potter imploding on himself and sending up an acidic cloud of smoke the colour of rotten cranberries, though he took note of the effect; it could come in handy later.

The result of all of Draco's hard work sat huddled in Potter's place. Too big robes, a shock of black hair, and a fearful expression. Potter held his glasses up with one hand, his robes with the other, and stared around the room with his shoulders hunched, refusing to meet the gazes of his friends and the other students.

Blaise snickered, softly, but it was enough. Draco and the rest of the Slytherins burst into laughter, which caused the little Potter to start and nearly fall off his stool. Snape, who had been vanishing the cranberry coloured smoke with frantic swipes of his wand, turned on Potter now and glared at him. If it wasn't for Granger's reflexes, Potter really  _would_  have fallen off his chair then.

"What did you  _do?_ " Snape hissed, glaring down at Potter, who cowered away from him.

"I don't know, sir, I'm sorry!" he said, which shut up most of the Slytherins. Potter never apologised to Snape if he could help it. Even Snape leaned back and frowned.

"How old are you?" he demanded, and Potter answered, bewildered.

"Eight, sir."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Do you know what are you doing in this room?"

Potter stared around, clutching at his glasses. "I'm sorry sir, I'm not sure. Am I in the way?"

There was a flurry of whispering, during which everyone came to the conclusion that Harry Potter was now basically eight years old, did a mental double take, and leaned forward expectantly.

Snape turned on Granger, finally. Draco didn't know why he hadn't questioned her from the start. No matter what age Potter was, Granger was always going to be more competent. "What did he do?"

Granger took a deep breath and looked down at the ruined contents of their cauldron. Draco noted that she was still holding onto little Potter's shoulders, and that little Potter had noticed and was trying to squirm away, to no avail.

"I don't know, sir," she said, in an eerie echo of little Potter's earlier words. "The potion was fine before we added the boomslang skin."

"A de-aging potion should not have removed years from Potter's memory or intellect," Snape snapped, glaring at her. Draco mentally added the colourful disparagement of Potter's intellect (or lack thereof) that he was sure Snape had meant to imply. It was more fun when he was actually able to think up the insult instead of letting it stand as an assumption. That was an area where he and Snape disagreed.

Granger bowed her head as she repeated her ignorance of the situation, holding still more tightly to Potter's shoulders. Draco watched with interest as Potter's forehead furrowed and he renewed his struggle to get away. Was Granger  _hurting_  the eight-year-old version of her friend?

But no. Potter looked more confused and upset than hurt, and Granger pulled away with a yelp a second later, staring at Harry and holding her left hand.

Draco smirked. Potter had used a Stinging Hex, from the look of the mark on her hand. Snape ignored Granger's wounded expression and collected the cauldron and the contents of Potter's worktable, before ordering her to take Potter down to the Hospital Wing. Potter went, docile and hunched in on himself as Granger led him away.

"Back to work, all of you," Snape said, glaring at the rest of the class. Weasley, who clearly wanted to follow the other two thirds of his trio, snarled something under his breath and got points taken away.

After that, it was a fairly normal Potions hour.

***

Apparently, Draco's little prank on Potter had been harder to reverse than he had first assumed. Potter was still eight the next day, and spent the whole morning following Weasley and Granger around school. Draco, curious despite himself, and in the same Charms class as the Gryffindors, followed them out of the Great Hall and took mental notes on Potter's eccentric behaviour.

Or maybe it wasn't eccentric for an eight year old, though Draco wouldn't really know. Potter's mouth was continually hanging open, in a way that Draco's mother would have abhorred. His eyes were wide enough to show white all around his irises, and widened further still as Granger explained about the trick staircase on the second floor.

Pansy, who also had Charms right after breakfast, leaned closer to Draco and whispered, "Potter looks like someone let him into the coffee."

"My mother would have threatened to hex my face to stay that way if I'd wandered around with such an expression when I was that age," Blaise agreed.

"He does look a bit like a stunned lemming, doesn't he?" Draco said, tilting his head and grinning. "Not a terribly significant difference between eight and sixteen, then."

They all snickered, though they lowered the volume a bit when Potter glanced back at them curiously. Draco and his Slytherin friends had no qualms about picking on children. They were, on the other hand, aware that the maturity level expected of them required that they not actually make said children cry.

Charms was entertaining, if only because of Potter. They were learning a variation on the standard cleaning charm, which of course, Draco had no use for. He had almost been tempted to call for a house elf when Flitwick asked for a volunteer from their group, but decided in the end that the detention wasn't worth it. And besides, the blustering from Flitwick would have caused Draco to miss what happened next.

Potter sat quietly for the lecture portion of the class, but when it was time to break into groups to practice, there was a commotion from his side of the room.

"Hermione, where's my wand?" For someone who was trying to be subtle, Weasley was awfully loud. Draco watched with amusement as Potter crawled away from his guardians under the desks, wand held securely in his right fist.

"Where did you last see it?"

While Granger and Weasley searched around for Weasley's wand, little Potter came to a halt under Brown and Patil's desk, glancing at their shapely legs and frowning.

 _Please do it,_  Draco thought. He nudged Pansy and indicated Potter's position with his eyes. She pinched her lips together so as not to laugh, and leaned forward for a better view under the pretence of checking Draco's text.

Potter was mouthing the incantation himself, trying to wrap his eight-year-old tongue around the tricky Latin syllables. If there was a god, Weasley and Granger wouldn't realise what Potter had done before it was too late.

Potter raised the wand, pointed it right at Brown's shin, and waved it, just like Flitwick had shown them. Draco was impressed at his attention, and even more impressed at the high-pitched shriek that Brown let loose not a second later.

Potter scurried away under the desks, unnoticed, as Brown leapt to her feet and started swiping at her shins frantically, trying to get rid of all the extra little legs that had started popping up. Draco wasn't close enough to hear what Potter had actually _said_ , but he wished he had been. A spell like  _that_ …

Brown continued screeching as Flitwick ran over to assist, but Draco kept an eye on Potter. He had returned to his spot with Weasley and Granger unnoticed, and stuck Weasley's wand under his chair, as though Weasley had just dropped it. He looked mildly disappointed at his failure, but still.

Draco resolved to be around Potter and his friends as often as possible until the potion was reversed.

***

After Charms ended, Draco came across Weasley and Granger arguing over who should take Potter with them to class. Draco hoped Granger won, seeing as how she was in Arithmancy with him next. Draco stepped back into a corner to watch the argument, unobserved, and began to grin.

Potter's friends were abysmal at childcare. He had wondered during Charms, but it was confirmed now. They were pants at keeping tabs on him. Draco watched little Potter slink away down the corridor toward a statue of an Abraxan and stare up at it in awe. He was well out of Granger and Weasley's sight now, but they hadn't noticed a thing, too caught up in arguing with each other.

Potter got that stunned lemming expression on his face again as the Abraxan glanced down at him, flexing its wings and generally showing off. The statue was one of Draco's favourites, and it adored attention. Potter's gasps of awe as it reared and shook out its mane were well received, by both parties.

Draco glanced away from Potter and observed Granger and Weasley's argument again. They still hadn't noticed Potter's absence. He looked back at Potter, eyes narrowed.

He could walk right up to Potter, stun him, and be gone before they ever noticed. The Malfoys needed something like this, to put them back in the Dark Lord's good graces after Lucius' arrest and the Dark Lord's decision to leave him in Azkaban after releasing the rest of his followers. The Malfoys were not well favoured nowadays, and Draco did not like his mother living alone in the Manor now that the Dark Lord and any number of Death Eaters had  _moved in_ with them.

They would be set for life if he could deliver Potter to the Dark Lord, weakened like this. The question was, did he want to?

Before Draco could make up his mind, the argument ended with an abrupt: "Where's Harry?"

Weasley started walking in the direction of Potter and the statue, and Draco made himself scarce, setting off for Arithmancy.

He would think about this.

***

Over the summer, after the Dark Lord had begun his occupation of Malfoy Manor, he held a revel, to which all the teenaged children of his Death Eaters were invited. Draco hadn't minded going, and knew that there really wasn't any way around it, anyway. It was held in his mother's rose garden.

The Death Eaters formed a circle under the full moon, and the younger generation were instructed to form their own circle, each standing in front of their parents. Several strangers were brought in from a nearby village, bound and naked, and Draco's heart almost stopped when he thought he recognised one of them as a mudblood Ravenclaw girl in the year above him.

He stared at her the whole time, feeling the shock of it freshen each time a spell struck her and she screamed. Hours later, when all four of the strangers were dead, Draco itched to step forward and examine her more closely, but he dared not. The Dark Lord stood among what remained of the bodies and made a speech, his voice ringing and grand in the rising dawn.

The Dark Lord's words would have sent a shiver up Draco's spine no matter what. The difference was, staring down at the girl's lifeless corpse (was her name Sara? He thought it was Sara…), he couldn't tell what kind of shiver it was. Before, he would have said it was one of reverence, of glory. Now, he didn't know.

Nagini, the Dark Lord's snake, ate all four of the bodies while the Death Eaters took turns crawling forward through the blood and organ fragments to kiss the hem of the Dark Lord's robes. Draco watched the girl-whose-name-might-have-been-Sara disappear down the giant snake's bottomless throat, and felt as though he wanted to throw up.

Afterward, Draco and his friends retired to his room, where they sat on his bed in their pyjamas, having abandoned their bloodied robes on the floor for the house elves, and watched the rest of the sunrise. The other progeny had gone home already, or were sleeping elsewhere. None of them spoke for the longest time.

It was Theo who finally broke the silence. "Brookstone," he said. "That's what her name was."

They all stared at him.

"Sara," Pansy said after a long moment, and her face was more lined than Draco had ever seen it. "I thought so too."

Draco nodded, staring down at his knees. Theo put an arm around Daphne's shoulders as she started to shake.

"Maybe it wasn't her," Greg said. His dull features furrowed.

"She tutored me in Herbology once." Vince said.

"I remember that," Theo replied. "You said she had decent tits, for a Mudblood."

There was a longer silence this time as they all looked at each other, thinking the same thing but not daring to say it out loud. Uncertainty was not something prized in the ranks of the Death Eaters. It would have been so much easier if they hadn't _known_  her.

Vince finally spoke up. "She was just a Mudblood, though." The rest of them stared at him. Greg shifted uneasily, and nodded.

"Right, she was. Hardly even matters."

"I…" Pansy's voice broke. She took a deep breath and tried again. "Yes, you're right. Of course. It was just unexpected, that's all."

They all nodded slowly, unable to meet each other's eyes. Theo's arm tightened around Daphne's shoulder, and they all sat, huddled and miserable until breakfast.

Later, during the Sorting, they would rake their eyes over the Ravenclaw table, and her empty chair would silently accuse them all.

***

"So," Draco said, approaching Pansy and Blaise where they sat in front of the fire. Vince and Greg were hunched over their Transfiguration text in the corner, paying no attention. The common room was nearly empty, and Draco had taken the opportunity when it was given. "Potter."

Pansy raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes, Draco?" she asked. "What about Potter?"

"I was thinking," Draco said. "About the Dark Lord."

They both knew what he meant, even though Blaise and his mother had remained steadfastly neutral in the war so far.

He continued. "Potter would be a huge asset as he is now."

Pansy saw where he was going immediately. "We would basically win it, in one fell swoop," she said, and her face was the kind of neutral that meant she was hiding emotion. "We'd be a lot better off."

Draco nodded.

"Have you talked to Theo or Daphne about this?" she asked.

"No," he said. "I'm not sure what should be done, or when. It's a delicate situation."

Pansy bowed her head in acknowledgement. She and Blaise both knew that Draco's main motivation was to protect his family. The only question for him was the best way of doing so.

Pansy raised her chin and met Draco's eyes directly. "I'll support you," she said, effectively ending the conversation. Blaise nodded his agreement, and they all glanced over to the corner where Vince and Greg sat. More plain language wasn't possible just yet. Draco wanted to trust Vince and Greg, but they were in it for their families just the same as Draco, and the pressure there was intense. Pansy could play the delicate female and demur, offering money instead of her actual services, but Draco just wasn't in the same position.

He wasn't sure why he had expected advice or opinions from this corner, anyway. Draco's friends were cagey at the best of times, and they had a lot to lose here. He would be the one taking sides, and hopefully, they would follow.

***

Draco came across little Potter a couple days later, bereft of his friends and guardians and playing some incomprehensible game with a portrait. He stopped and watched, wondering where Weasley and Granger were, and thinking about the various spells he could use to bind Potter, and the complexities involved in removing him from the castle (if Draco decided on that route).

Potter caught sight of him before Draco could make up his mind, though, and stared. His glasses were entirely new, Draco noted, and his Hogwarts uniform had been resized to fit him.

"Hello," little Potter said, politely. He clearly had no idea who Draco was. It was... unusual, to say the least.

"Hello," Draco said. "What were you doing with that monk?"

Potter looked back up at the portrait, which shook a fist at him jovially.

"We were playing rock, paper, scissors," Potter said, and waved his palm at the monk, who threw up his hands and marched around in a circle. Potter giggled. Draco did not pretend to understand.

"Where are your guardians?" Draco asked instead. It occurred to him that if he was going to decide to bring Potter to the Dark Lord, he'd have to do it soon. Potter darted a glance up at him.

"I don't have to go home," Potter told him, and stuck his chin out uncertainly. "The Headmaster said so."

Draco blinked, confused at the non sequitur. Potter was so strange sometimes. "No, I meant Weasley and Granger."

Potter's expression was baffled.

"Hermione and ...Ron," Draco said, resolving to brush his teeth after he left Potter. The filthy blood those names implied would surely give him some kind of tooth rot.

In any case, the lines of communication between Draco and the little Potter had been re-established, and Potter's face cleared. "Oh, them. They're in the Tower, I expect."

Draco smirked, and Potter looked at him suspiciously. "Why are you down here then, Potter, if they're up there?"

"How do you know my last name?" Potter asked, his face growing even more suspicious. "Are you a stranger? Aunt Petunia told Dudley not to talk to strangers, so I'm pretty sure they're bad."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What if I told you I'm not a stranger?" he asked. "We know each other fairly well."

Potter raised an eyebrow right back, and Draco felt mildly plagiarized. "I don't know you," he said. "I know Hermione and Ron and Dumb...the Headmaster, and I know the Git, but I think his name is something else, but Ron won't tell me what it is, and Hermione just laughs when I ask."

Draco nodded. Little Potter was talkative. "The dark, greasy man?" Draco asked, and Potter nodded, watching Draco expectantly. Draco considered what he should say, and, smirking, finally settled on an answer. "His name is Sev."

Just because Potter was a kid and therefore off-limits in terms of teasing, did not mean Draco couldn't fuck with Weasley and Granger, and hopefully make  _them_  cry. When Snape found out little Potter was going around calling him 'Sev', he'd have no one to blame but them, and Draco could watch the fallout.

Draco decided then and there that he'd wait to decide about stealing Potter at least until he got to see the look on Snape's face.

"Okay," Potter said, a paragon of unconcern. "Do you know how to get to the kitchens from here?"

"How do you know where the kitchens are?" Draco asked. The expression on Potter's face transformed into that of a patient adult dealing with an incredibly dim child, and Draco was offended. How did little Potter have such versatile facial expressions, while all the regular Potter had was 'insulted', 'annoyed', or 'furious'? At least, that Draco had seen. Potter probably also had 'happy' and 'sad'. The point was, they were very boring, very basic expressions. Little Potter was complicated and interesting.

"I don't  _know_ where the kitchens are," little Potter explained. "That's why I  _asked_  you."

Draco snorted, but the sound of footsteps cut off the retort he had been about to make. Potter's eyes widened, and in the space of a second, he had disappeared. Draco blinked, staring around the hallway and wondering how he'd managed to vanish so quickly. Then Potter poked his head out of a bit of wall and put his finger to his lips with a devious glint to his eyes, before ducking back through.

When Granger and Weasley came upon Draco, he was grinning. This did not bode well for him.

"He was right here!" Granger snapped, and advanced on Draco, wand at the ready. "What did you do with him, Malfoy?"

"Yeah, you slimy ferret," Weasley said, uselessly. "Where's Harry?"

The smile dropped from Draco's face instantly. "I don't know," he said, his face a picture of innocence.

"Bullshit, Malfoy," Weasley growled. "I saw that fucking smirk you were wearing a second ago. Harry was  _here_. What did you do with him?"

"What makes you think he was here?" Draco asked, frowning. "I certainly didn't see him."

Granger stared at him, then turned around with a huff and marched around the corner. Before Draco had time to wonder where she'd gone so abruptly, she was back, and her entire manner had changed.

"I think Malfoy's telling the truth, Ron," she said. Weasley was unconvinced, and his wand remained fixed on Draco. "Harry's still exactly where he was when we looked, before Malfoy even got here."

Draco immediately began wondering what source of information they had that would tell them when Draco had arrived in the hallway and how long little Potter had been in one place.

"Him and his stupid passages!" Weasley exclaimed, dropping his wand away from Draco and staring around the hallway. "I don't know how he finds them, if even the Mauraders couldn't -"

"Ron, shush!" Granger said, eyeing Draco pointedly. "And anyway, he's an eight-year-old boy who likes exploring and has a lot of time on his hands. Of course he was going to find a few passages."

While Weasley and Granger were debating where the passage could be, Draco began to wonder if Potter was still hiding behind the wall, listening to the whole conversation. He knew he wouldn't have been able to keep himself undiscovered for so long at that age.

There was a crash in the hall perpendicular to the one they were standing in just then, and a childish scream. No, then, to hiding nearby and listening.

"Harry!" Granger cried, and took off running toward the source of the noise, Weasley close on her heels. The moment they rounded the corner and vanished out of sight, little Potter jumped out of the wall and grabbed Draco's hand.

"Hurry, before they find us!" Potter tugged on Draco's hand, and Draco began to follow, amused despite himself. Little Potter was fucking  _sneaky._  It was cute, actually, though Draco would never admit it aloud.

"What was that noise?" Draco asked, allowing Potter to tug him along.

"The knight threw his axe for me," Potter explained with a toothy smile. "And I screamed so they'd know it was me, then I came back."

Draco snickered. "Why weren't you in Slytherin, Potter?" he asked. Potter frowned at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Where are the kitchens?"

Just then, Granger rounded the corner, pointing her wand at Draco.

"Let him go!" she cried, then: " _Furnunculus!_ "

"Hey!" Draco yelped, ducking. "I didn't do anything!"

" _Stupefy!_ "

" _Fuck!_ " Draco said in response, fumbling for his wand. He should be more prepared than this when Harry Potter was in the vicinity. Age made no difference; that should have been obvious from the start. No regular two year old had Dark Lords chasing after them. Potter clearly had some kind of curse that attracted danger and headaches to those around him.

He summoned a Shield Charm, and Granger gave up on him, instead running over to little Potter and throwing her arms around him. Potter's plans were dashed, and from the petulant expression on his face, he knew it.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Granger fussed, petting Potter's head and generally causing Potter's face to shift from defeated to uncomfortable.

"I'm fine," he said, trying to pull away. "I was hungry."

"Oh, but we were going to go to the Great Hall, honey," Granger said, and Draco made a face at her behind her back. Potter saw it, and the corners of his mouth lifted up.

"I don't want to eat there, 'Mione," he said. "I don't like it. It makes me scared."

Potter didn't look very scared. He looked like he was bracing himself. And no wonder, too, when Granger threw her arms around him and hugged him again.

"Oh, of course we don't have to go, then, Harry! I didn't know you were afraid of the Hall, or we would never have made you go in there. Oh, you poor darling..."

"I want to go to the kitchens," Potter said, and his voice sounded pathetic. Draco saw what Granger couldn't, though, and knew that Potter's face was unemotional, even bored, and that he was clearly lying. In deference to this new, crafty little Potter, Draco stayed silent, knowing that his snickering would spoil the plan Potter was working on. A Slytherin never sabotages another Slytherin, after all, unless absolutely necessary.

And little Potter was such a Slytherin it almost  _hurt_ , to remember what his sixteen year old self was like. It was astronomically unfair, knowing that whatever had happened to Potter between eight and eleven had changed him so drastically that he had rejected Draco's friendship and been sorted into Gryffindor, when this eight-year-old never would have.

Weasley came barrelling around the corner again, red with exertion and sucking in gasping breaths.

"Did you - Hermione, you found him!" he stumbled over to Granger and knelt down where she had been hugging Potter, to pat him on the shoulder.

"We almost lost you again," he said, through his panting. Potter smiled up at him.

""Mione says we can go to the kitchens for dinner tonight," he said. As Weasley agreed and stood, he glanced over at Draco.

"What are you still doing here, ferret?" he snarled. Draco was about to spit out a reply when he saw the fleeting expression of disapproval on Potter's face, directed at Weasley. Instead of reacting, Draco turned away and left.

Only once he'd gotten close enough to Slytherin to be sure he wouldn't run into them again did he let himself laugh. It was more of a cackle, really. The pure  _irony_  of the situation was astonishing. Little Potter was bloody  _brilliant_.

Plans to capture him for the Dark Lord were shelved, for the time being, while Draco considered new and fun ways to prank Weasley and Granger through what he was sure was now a new ally: little Potter.

***

Over the next week, Potter turned out to be more fun than Draco could have imagined. He'd never pictured himself as someone who would like kids, but clearly he got along with  _at least_  the sneaky eight-year-old demographic.

Potter hadn't had very much difficulty wrapping Granger and Weasley around his little finger, and had learned quickly the buttons to push to get exactly what he wanted. They disapproved wholeheartedly of how he had taken a shine to Draco, but despite the many and dire warnings, some of which were spoken right in front of Draco (in order to more accurately point out his faults, if Draco estimated correctly), little Potter continued to seek Draco out.

Draco knew Weasley and Granger's warnings were perfectly valid, though he of course said nothing to little Potter about it when they crossed paths. There was still the temptation, clear in his mind, to just take Potter and bring him back to the Manor. At this point, the kid might even go willingly. And with Potter acting as Slytherin as he was, the Dark Lord might not even want to kill him immediately. Draco had heard rumours that the Dark Lord had tried to convert Potter before, and that he had refused. Maybe he wouldn't, at this age. And then Draco would be credited with bringing the Boy-Who-Lived over to the dark side, and his mother would be out of harm's way, or at least she would have a lot more power in the Death Eater ranks than she did now.

In any case, Potter's new and improved personality made it a lot easier to convince the more recalcitrant Slytherins to keep their mouths shut while Draco worked on possibly converting or kidnapping Potter. Conversion was something a group could take credit for, after all, and kidnapping the kid right under Dumbledore's nose was extremely risky.

But the thought stuck. Draco never really got much of a chance to act on it, though, because Granger and Weasley were much more careful about little Potter's whereabouts after that first interaction. Weasley was also quick to show up wherever Draco was and make dire threats when he couldn't find the kid.

"It's nice of you to check in with me," Draco said on one of these times. "But I really don't need to know exactly how inept you and Granger are at child care." And then, because he was only human: "Just because your mother had so many children she never noticed when one went missing doesn't mean you can be as negligent, Weasel. People will be upset if you kill their hero with incompetence."

That was when Weasley threw a hex and got detention, because while Draco had said his bit quietly enough to avoid the notice of any nearby professors, Weasley had not, and McGonagall could actually be fair sometimes.

When he did get the chance to actually talk with little Potter, Draco gleaned quite a lot from their conversations. For example, Potter had not known a thing about magic before his arrival at Hogwarts. As far as he was concerned, he'd been living with his relatives and doing something called 'vacuuming' before he was transposed into the Hogwarts Potions classroom.

His wide-eyed bewilderment when he'd first been changed made sense now, in light of this. His relatives had kept everything a secret from him, and even now, Potter's friends were keeping the fact that he wasn't really eight years old a secret. He thought he'd simply been spirited away from his hated relatives to this new home; he thought some wish he'd made had been granted by magic.

It was kind of pitiful, when Draco really thought about it.


	2. The Hogsmeade Visit

The next time they spoke, Potter demanded Draco's assistance for revenge on Snape. Apparently, he'd upset Potter by blowing up at Granger when Potter called him 'Sev'. Draco felt very proud of that particular plot and was perfectly willing to lend some assistance to Potter, as long as he didn't get caught.

Though to be honest, Potter didn't really need help. He was small and practically invisible when he didn't want to be noticed, and had more than once sent Snape into an apoplectic rage that had no outlet, as he was careful enough not to get caught at his machinations.

Case in point: Today's Potions class. Draco was partnered with Pansy and attempting to brew a very complicated healing potion, when Potter popped up unexpectedly between them.

"Hello, Potter," Pansy said, and continued crushing thestral teeth. Draco glanced down at Potter and gave him a brief smile. He was standing up on his toes and peering at their workstation curiously.

"You're doing it differently than Hermione and Ron," he said. "Ron didn't crush the teeth."

Pansy snickered. "They don't even need the help, Draco," she said. "Weasley will fail them both just fine on his own."

This was very true, but Draco didn't think there was any reason to lose half the fun of Potions class. After all, sabotaging Gryffindor potions was what had gotten them little Potter, and Draco considered him a particular success.

"We're actually doing it  _right_ , Potter," Draco said, aiming his words at his elbow. He glanced over at Weasley, who was scratching himself like a mutt, and wrinkled his nose. Disgusting. He looked back down at their teeth and frowned. "Though…those are a bit too fine. We'll have to add some sea salt to round it out."

Pansy huffed and set the pestle down. "Potter, you can read, right?"

Potter nodded.

"Go into that closet over there and find the jar that says 'unrefined sea salt'. Bring it back here."

Potter turned to leave, but Draco caught his shoulder. "Snape is very particular about his supply closet," Draco warned. "Be careful not to touch anything else."

Potter's face brightened, and he slipped away with a short nod. Draco watched him go.

"He's up to something," he said after a moment, stirring the contents of the cauldron precisely.

Pansy bent her head over the crushed teeth and smiled. "We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

And they did. Potter took a bit longer than would be expected to bring them the sea salt, and he was very insistent about returning it after they were finished.

For the rest of the double lesson, Draco and Pansy watched Potter move between the supply closet and Granger's desk, escaping Snape's notice completely. It was almost awe-inspiring. Draco couldn't wait to find out what he was doing, but he didn't want to spoil it by calling attention to Potter or the closet.

At the end of the lesson, as everyone bottled up their potions and brought them up to the front, Potter was sitting quietly and contentedly on his stool toward the back of the room. Snape stood from his desk and walked toward the closet, and Draco couldn't help himself. He glanced at Potter, who had begun swinging his legs back and forth on the stool, examining Granger and Weasley's potion, and generally looking anywhere but at Snape.

When Snape returned from the closet, his face had gone a terrifying white colour.

"All of you, back to you seats right this  _instant,_ " he hissed. The entire class jumped, startled at the venom in Snape's voice, and no one moved for about ten seconds. " _Now_ ," he growled, and they all scrambled for their desks.

Snape moved to the front, his furious gaze sweeping over each of them in turn. Draco saw that Potter was avoiding looking at Snape by looking up at Granger instead, as though confused. She had a comforting arm around his torso.

"I want to know which of you did this," Snape said, his voice so low and quiet that Draco had to strain to hear it. "Or both Houses will lose one hundred points  _each._ "

Had Snape not been so clearly livid, there would have been an uproar at this proclamation. As it was, even the Gryffindors stayed quiet, their displeasure expressed as a frisson of fidgeting through the group. Finnegan actually made a small noise of indignation, and Snape swooped down on him.

"Do you have something to say, Mr. Finnegan?" Snape's eyes bored into the restless Gryffindor.

"No, sir," he said nervously. Snape's eyes narrowed.

"I believe you were the last to procure your ingredients for this particular potion, is that incorrect?"

Finnegan swallowed nervously. "No sir, but-"

Snape's scowl was fierce. "One hundred points from Gryffindor, Mr. Finnegan, for disrupting the critical organization of potions ingredients in a volatile environment. Detention for the next three weeks. You will reorganise that closet, and you will learn exactly why each ingredient must remain in its place, and the consequences that would have transpired had you been less fortunate."

"But sir!"

"Would you like to lose another hundred points?"

Finnegan fell silent, glaring angrily at his table.

On the way out of the classroom, Draco glanced into the closet, and found himself full of pride for their pseudo-Slytherin mini-Potter.

Nothing was where it was supposed to be. Nothing was even  _near_  where it was supposed to be. Looking closer, Draco whistled under his breath. Potter had even quietly managed the higher shelves, which was probably one of the biggest reasons why Snape hadn't even considered blaming the astoundingly short eight-year-old.

Minutes later, Draco discovered Potter walking between Vince and Pansy, effectively shielding himself from view as they made their way to the Slytherin common room. Draco stopped, and looked proudly down at Potter.

"I," he told him, "Am extremely impressed." Potter grinned at the compliment.

"So you'll definitely help me get revenge on him, then?" he asked, and Draco did a double-take.

Blaise laughed, but it was Pansy who spoke. "That wasn't enough?" she asked.

"Why do you even want  _my_  help?" Draco added. "You're doing perfectly brilliantly on your own."

Potter shrugged. "Sev deserves it," he said in a very matter-of-fact tone. They all laughed this time. Draco was very pleased with himself for thinking up that name, and magnanimously allowed Potter to avoid answering his question, which was clearly the intention.

After all, Potter didn't mind assisting Draco, as proven by Weasley's distraction today. He had spent the entire class period scratching himself furiously, courtesy of Itching Powder smuggled to Potter under the pretence of returning a dropped cloak. It was one of the reasons Potter had been able to sneak off so freely in Potions and now, with the Slytherins.

Apparently Potter had a bit of a vicious streak, as he had plainly used the entire bottle on Weasley's pants. When asked why, Potter was taciturn, citing 'revenge' and refusing to elaborate. He was bizarrely vengeful for an eight-year-old, though Draco was content not to pry. It was enough that Weasley would be miserable for several days.

As they neared the Slytherin common room, Draco wondered what, exactly, Weasley and Granger would do if they discovered Potter there. They clearly had some method of keeping tabs on his whereabouts, even if it wasn't the traditional tracking charms Draco would have preferred. They would probably throw a fit and accuse Draco and the other Slytherins of trying to hurt Potter, or take him to the Dark Lord.

In all honesty, Draco hadn't really come to any sort of decision about that yet. He knew his friends were all waiting for him to decide; even Daphne and Theo, who were generally more independent, had agreed to leave the choice up to Draco. It only tricky part was making sure he didn't reveal his real motives to anyone but Pansy and Blaise, both of whom he was certain he could trust to keep quiet, if nothing else.

In any case, Draco reasoned, he couldn't do anything to Potter right now even if he wanted to. Weasley and Granger were bound to be aware that Potter was missing already, and were probably on their way to Slytherin at this very moment. There would be no time to get him out of the castle or hide him.

"Potter," Draco said, as they reached the entrance to the common room. "As much as we enjoy your company, I'm afraid you aren't allowed in here."

Potter glanced at the wall, then up at Draco. His eyes were big and beseeching, and he tilted his head in a way that made his hair fall against his glasses. Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

Pansy, on the other hand, fell for it completely, bending down to brush Potter's hair out of his eyes and smiling at him. "Oh, come on, Draco," she said. "What's a few minutes? It's not like he's not Slytherin enough."

Potter beamed up at her, and Draco rolled his eyes. "That's exactly it, Pansy," he said. "He'll hear the password, and then, Slytherin that he is, he'll be in and out of here whenever he wants, doing whatever he wants."

"Please, Draco," Pansy said. "Be reasonable. He doesn't have to hear it."

Draco scoffed. "But he will, Pansy. You and I both know he will."

Vince and Greg watched the interaction uneasily. Draco glanced at them, daring them to question his methods. They both looked away.

Draco turned his attention back to Potter, who had apparently decided that a pout was in order, focused like a laser on Draco. Had he been a weaker mortal, or perhaps less distracted by the whole problem of Vince and Greg's divided loyalties, he probably would have fallen for it: It was a first-rate pout.

Fortunately, Draco didn't have to overcome much more of little Potter's 'I'm adorable' brand of manipulation, because Granger and Weasley finally showed up, tearing around the corner and coming to a halt right in front of Potter.

Granger snatched him up and settled him on her hip, ignoring his weight and glaring at the lot of them.

Draco smirked. "About time you two showed up," he said, and leaned against the entrance, breathing the password and doing a passable imitation of a ventriloquist. Weasley had his wand drawn, but Greg had stepped forward menacingly, allowing the rest of them to go inside with little trouble. Draco stayed, for a moment, and eyed Potter. He didn't look like he'd seen, but one could never be completely certain.

"Keep a better eye on him," he told Granger. She glared back, clearly interpreting it as a threat. Stupid bint. Draco gestured to Greg and they followed the other Slytherins into the common room, Draco resolving to change the password once the Gryffindors had gone. He might like little Potter, but he didn't trust him a bit. There was a reason he wanted inside, which only firmed Draco's resolve to keep him out.

***

It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and Draco made plans with his year mates to go en masse, something they rarely did. They jaunted around the small town, Pansy on Draco's arm, Blaise, Daphne, Tracey and Theo around them, and Vince and Greg following.

At Honeydukes, Draco contemplated a purchase of several chocolate frogs, remembering Potter's delight when Granger first introduced them to him in Transfiguration. He eventually decided against it on the grounds that even entertaining the thought seemed unacceptably sentimental.

"Oh, by the way Draco, how's little Potter doing?" Blaise asked as they left Honeydukes, sweets in hand. Rolling his eyes, Draco answered and considered that he might as well have bought the frogs, if Blaise was going to be like that.

Though he might have only been curious. The rest of the Slytherins were just as intrigued by Potter's behaviour as Draco was, and he had been keeping them updated as to Potter's movements over the past few weeks, to the general enjoyment of the common room.

Snape was still having difficulty coming up with an antidote, in large part because Draco had set little Potter to sabotaging his attempts as the insisted-upon revenge. Draco had still not made his decision on whether to bring Potter to the Dark Lord, and he didn't want the opportunity to pass before he could decide whether to grasp it. Draco hadn't even written to his mother about Potter's condition, and had no idea if the Dark Lord knew about the situation or not.

He had specifically asked all of his fellow Slytherins to keep mum on the subject while he 'set plans in motion'. As he had significant influence over most of them (not to mention the blackmail material he'd been gathering on all his House mates since first year), and considering that he had always laid a particular claim as Potter's rival, he assumed they had kept their promise.

Besides, all of them knew that little Potter was loads more fun than teenage Potter, and sentencing him to torture and eventual death as a clever little kid seemed wrong, somehow.

Speaking of Potter...

"Hey, Draco, look," Daphne said, pointing down the street. Draco looked, but the movement was gone so quickly he nearly missed it. He glanced back at Daphne.

"Potter?" he asked.

"I think so," she said. Theo nodded.

"It was a tiny, stealthy blur," he confirmed, and Tracey and Pansy voiced amused agreement.

"Definitely Potter," Draco agreed.

They watched the street, waiting for Granger or Weasley to materialise and chase him down. Nothing happened.

"He's snuck off again!" Draco exclaimed. Pansy laughed.

"He is a devious little brat, isn't he?"

"He really is," Draco agreed. "He can't just go wandering around in Hogsmeade, though. It's different from Hogwarts."

"Aw," Blaise cooed. "Is Draco worried about ickle Potter?"

"You know," Pansy said, with a casual air that was anything but. "Now would be the perfect time to sneak Potter away to the Dark Lord. No one would even know it was you if you got back in time, Draco. Weasley and Granger would have no one to blame but themselves, for losing him again."

The entire group went silent, staring at each other. Draco wasn't one hundred percent on any of them, excluding Blaise and Pansy. But if there was ever a time for action, it was now.

"Be right back," he said and started walking in the direction he'd seen Potter go. Vince and Greg fell into step behind him, and Draco's heart raced. He hadn't the faintest clue of what he was about to do.

They rounded the corner and found themselves in an alley, and there was Potter, at the very end, playing with a small dog.

He looked up when Draco approached, smiling, though he faltered somewhat when he saw Vince and Greg flanking him. They did look menacing when they fell into step like that.

"Draco?" he asked, looking at them uncertainly. Draco tried to make himself look friendly despite his nerves, and Potter's expression took on a shade of alarm. It must not have worked, then.

"Hi, Potter." Draco gestured for Vince and Greg to stop, and stepped closer to Potter, holding out his hand. Potter took it, still frowning at him.

"Do you want to meet Scruffy?" Potter pulled Draco toward the dog. Draco grimaced.

"Er, not particularly," he said. "Is that a stray, Potter? What if it has rabies? Or fleas?"

Potter glanced at him, nonplussed, and patted the dog on the head. Right. He lived up in Gryffindor with Weasley. If he was going to catch fleas or rabies, he would have already.

"Right," Draco said. "What are you doing here by yourself? Why aren't you with Granger and Weasley?"

Potter shrugged. "I wanted to explore," he said, confident of Draco's usual reaction, which was one of amusement.

He did not get what he was expecting.

Draco glared at him. "I know you do that all the time in the castle, Potter, but it's different out here." Little Potter looked taken aback, and tried to pull his hand free of Draco's grip. Draco would not let him go. "Remember how Weasley and Granger said I'm dangerous and you shouldn't just go wandering around talking to people they haven't introduced you to?"

Potter nodded and opened his mouth, but Draco cut him off, lowering his voice to a more menacing octave. "Outside the castle, they're  _exactly right_. Potter, I am dangerous.  _Everyone_ is dangerous outside the castle."

"But you're nice," Potter said. "And you help me play pranks on Ron and Sev."

Draco opened his mouth to disabuse Potter of the notion that he could manipulate his way out of this, but he was interrupted.

"We're not taking him, are we," Vince said. Greg turned his head and stared, followed by both Draco and Potter. "You don't want to join the Dark Lord, do you?"

Greg stepped forward, closer to Draco and Potter, and adrenalin coursed through Draco's veins. He should have known this wasn't going to turn out well. He picked up Potter, who seemed to understand that something worrisome had just happened and stayed silent.

"We wondered," Greg said. Vince looked back at the entrance to the alley. It was empty.

"Fuck," Draco said. He pulled out his wand with his free hand and clutched Potter. "Greg, Vince…"

"We didn't think we had a choice," Greg said. "We thought you would do it, and we'd follow. But we do have a choice." Draco felt a surge of hope.

"We can go alone. Give him here." He jerked his head at Potter, who clutched at Draco more tightly.

Vince cut in. "We'll leave you out of it, Draco. We won't give the Dark Lord any reason to doubt your loyalties. You'll still have a place, if you change your mind. We understand about your mother."

"You two have been talking about this, then," Draco said, taking a step backward as they moved closer. Greg had his wand out, and Draco held his steady. "Did it occur to you that there's another option, too?"

Greg shook his head slowly. "We act stupid, Draco," he said. "But we're not that stupid. You're throwing in with a kid. Potter won't give a damn about you when he grows up."

"It's not just Potter," Draco said, though he was privately hoping they wouldn't ask who else it was, because he honestly didn't know himself. This whole endeavour was beginning to look like a monumental mistake. But little Potter was still there, clutching at Draco's collar, and he couldn't just hand him off.

"Just give us Potter, Draco," Vince said. "We'll leave you out of it."

"Fuck," Draco said weakly. He had backed up to the alley wall, and Vince and Greg were blocking the only way out. He had no doubt that they were lying about letting Draco go free. Greg's expression was too resolved, too determined, and Vince's eyes had taken on a brutal light that usually meant some Hufflepuff would be in the Hospital Wing by the end of the day.

Draco could take one of them, but not both, not when he was hindered by trying to protect Potter. He had really fucked up now. He set Potter down on his feet, and Potter hid behind him as Draco raised his wand more firmly. This was the stupidest thing he'd ever done, and he still wasn't entirely sure why he was doing it.

"Draco!" Vince looked away for a split second, back toward the entrance to the alley where the call had come from. Greg kept his eye on them, but it was enough. Draco used the opportunity to attempt a nonverbal spell.

Greg was upended, his wand falling uselessly to the ground.  _Levicorpus_  was one of the more useful spells Snape taught the Slytherins. Vince turned back as Greg was flying into the air, but Draco was already casting frantically. " _Stupefy._ " Vince dropped heavily to the dirt. Draco repeated the spell on Greg, and let him drop as well.

Draco gasped once and sat down abruptly in the dirt, and looked up to see who had saved him. It was Theo and Daphne. They were both pale as they approached. Draco really hoped they weren't about to demand Potter from him too. He'd probably just give in at this point. Slytherins just weren't built for this kind of thing.

"Are you okay, Draco?" Daphne asked. Pansy appeared at the end of the alleyway, and she hurried over as well.

"Blaise and Tracy went to figure out where Weasley and Granger ran off to," she told them. "Draco, gods, are you alright?"

Draco shook his head and looked up at the sky, still trying to calm his heart and lungs. Potter had knelt down next to him and was holding onto a piece of his robes, watching the whole spectacle with wide eyes.

"What did I just do?" Draco asked them in a high pitched voice. "I…why did I do that? I almost got myself killed, why did I do that? What was I-"

"Draco, breathe," Pansy said firmly, placing a hand on his arm. "Vince and Greg wouldn't have-"

"I don't know about that," Theo interrupted. "They were looking pretty ready to do whatever they had to." He glanced down at their unconscious bodies and cast a binding hex on them both. "What are we going to do?"

Draco rubbed his face. "With them, or in general?"

Daphne lowered herself into a seated position next to Potter and looked at him thoughtfully. Potter stared right back, forgetting his charm. He just looked scared. Draco imagined his own expression wasn't very different. "What if we Obliviated them?"

Draco closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe.

***

Draco and Theo left the alley together, carrying Potter with them. They met Blaise and Tracy near the pub.

"Granger and Weasley are inside," Blaise said. "The fools haven't even realized he's gone yet."

Draco took a moment to sneer, and glanced at his reflection in the window. He looked mostly normal. Passable, and not as though he'd nearly died in a dingy alley twenty minutes ago for a stupid, stupid reason which he was now dropping off in a pub with people who hadn't even noticed he'd gone. He made his way through the crush at the entrance, Potter clinging closer to him and hiding his face in Draco's neck. He seemed incredibly tiny. The further Draco moved into the pub, the wearier he felt.

When he reached the table full of Gryffindors, he cleared his throat.

"Next time you decide to bring an eight-year-old Boy-Who-Lived to Hogsmeade, I suggest you put some manner of tracking spell on him," he said harshly, settling Potter down on the empty chair next to Granger. She was staring at him with her mouth hanging open. Weasley had half risen out of his own chair and froze at Draco's words, also staring. "There's this thing called a library, Granger. I think you've heard of it."

"What did you do to him, Malfoy?" Weasley snarled, having recovered quickly. Draco glared at him and left. There wasn't anything more to be said. Weasley and Granger were appalling in their incompetence, and Draco didn't need this kind of stress in his life.

***

The whole fiasco at Hogsmeade meant Draco spent the next several days in a state of mingled irritation and serious apprehension. A trip down to the kitchens Sunday morning had him nearly undone when the Fat Friar popped out of a wall unexpectedly in front of him.

The only consolation was that the memory charm had worked and Vince and Greg were oblivious. Potter didn't seem to have spoken up either, as Granger and Weasley hadn't yet descended wrathfully on the Slytherin table, despite spending most of their time glaring at it.

Despite these good tidings, the letter that arrived two days after Hogsmeade from Draco's mother confirmed his bad mood. He watched the owl wing toward him, feeling his heart sink. Kidnapping Potter had been his only idea to keep his mother safe, and now Draco would have to read more about how the Dark Lord was destroying Malfoy Manor. He would have to read between the lines to learn anything more specific about his mother's welfare.

There had to be something he could do to keep her safe, especially now that he had essentially chosen his side. He schooled his face into a blank mask and read the note quickly.

Between the lines of his mother's letter, Draco found something that stunned him.

The Dark Lord didn't know.

He had no idea about Potter's change, about the mere  _existence_  of this weakness, let alone its longevity. He was still concocting a plan meant to lure Potter - the  _teenage_ Potter - away from the castle.

No one had told him.

Draco had sworn all the Slytherins to secrecy so that he could work on it himself, most of them under threat of serious blackmail. It was true that most of them didn't really have a line to the Dark Lord anyway, but he would have expected Vince and Greg at least to have let some hint slip. There was solidarity among the Slytherins, but not this much. He hadn't really thought they could get away with the Dark Lord not  _knowing._ It should have been impossible.

He was supposed to have other ears in Hogwarts, after all. Why hadn't Snape immediately informed his Lord? Everyone knew he'd been a Death Eater, and anyone who paid attention knew that he was a double agent at Hogwarts in addition to his teaching position. There had been nothing to cause the Slytherins to suspect his loyalties.

Until this.


	3. The Antidote

"I have an idea, Professor," Draco said. He had stayed after class and followed Snape into his office, where the potion meant as an antidote for Potter stewed, nearly finished. Draco cast it a careless glance and leaned casually on the wall next to it. Snape's gaze narrowed on him.

"What would this idea concern, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco tipped his chin up. "This antidote you're working on." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial filled with a deep orange substance. Snape eyed it with a narrow glance, stepping deliberately closer to his cauldron. "We can mix it with this: It's a delayed paralytic -"

"I know what it is, Mr. Malfoy." Snape stopped in front of the cauldron and loomed. "What do you intend to accomplish here?"

Draco's eyes glittered. "The potion will be rendered useless, and you'll frown and go back to your notes, wondering where you went wrong. Later that night,  _I'll_  portkey Potter to the Manor, where the Dark Lord will do what he wishes with him, and  _we_ will be rewarded handsomely."

Snape's hands disappeared from view behind his robes.

"Do you really think I did not come up with a thousand similar plots?" Snape asked in a low voice. Draco raised a contemptuous eyebrow. "Pomfrey will discover the addition. She tests every potion she gives to our Golden Boy." He sneered this last bit, and Draco tipped his head. It was a good lie.

"So delay the antidote for a bit longer, and I'll capture him when he next sneaks off from the Weasel and the Mudblood," Draco said dismissively. "And I'll take him then. I just thought you might want a part in the glory. It'll be such a  _surprise_ , after all. According to my mother, the Dark Lord is  _completely_  unaware of Potter's condition. Strange, isn't it?"

Draco allowed his lip to curl slightly while he waited to see what Snape would do next. Draco had held his wand in hand this whole time, hidden by his robes. He would not lose this opportunity because of carelessness. There was a brief pause, then:

"There are certain precautions I must take, as a double agent," Snape drawled. "One of those precautions is making magically binding vows of silence in situations where Dumbledore would not otherwise trust me. In this situation, I assumed that the vow would be little trouble, as my Slytherins are well acquainted with Potter's circumstances, and are  _fully capable_  of penning a letter." He paused delicately. "I believe your mother is currently in residence with the Dark Lord." He paused again, and met Draco's eyes coldly. "I am personally as astonished by his ignorance as you claim to be."

Draco raised an eyebrow. Touche.

It was a lie. Dumbledore wouldn't bother with requiring a vow of silence from Snape when he was well aware that the entire school would be able to talk about it. It was shocking that the newspapers hadn't already gotten hold of the story, as a matter of fact. If Draco had wanted to believe Snape, he could have. But if he was smart, or if he had been waiting for a sign…

He was about to take a risk, one that stood a chance of immolating any hope he had of keeping his family safe if he was wrong. But it was a calculated risk, and he'd weighed his options.

"You're disloyal," Draco's voice was barely audible. The swelling in his chest didn't distract him from the widening of Snape's eyes, or the subtle movement that could only be Snape reaching for his wand. Draco could handle the kind of verbal battle they'd just waged, but another run-in like the one in the alley would likely damage his poor Slytherin nerves beyond repair. He finished his thought quickly. "Good."

Snape lowered his wand and stared at Draco, calculating.

"You have had plenty of opportunities to take him before now," he noted. Draco nodded.

"A house elf has been following Potter around since Sunday," Snape continued. "The old Malfoy elf that now works in the Hogwarts kitchens."

"My doing," Draco allowed. "Weasley and Granger are appalling caretakers. They lose him constantly. Finding him playing with a mutt in an alley in Hogsmede was the last straw."

Snape's expression went from cautious to wrathful so quickly that Draco nearly took a step back. "They are careless and incompetent," he spat, and visibly restrained himself from continuing. Draco felt vindicated. Weasley and Granger were useless.

Snape examined Draco with an interested eye. "What do you hope to gain here?"

Draco took a deep breath.

"My mother is still at Malfoy Manor…"

***

"You didn't do anything to him."

Draco had been minding his own business, walking to lunch after his meeting with Snape, when Granger ambushed him. Her words were juxtaposed with the wand held to his throat.

"Imagine that," Draco said, lifting his hand to try to push the wand away. Granger pressed it closer, so that now it was actually causing him discomfort. Draco dropped his hand.

"Why didn't you do anything to him?" she demanded, glaring at him. "What are you planning? Are you trying to gain his trust and  _then_  hurt him? What good is that going to do, Malfoy?"

"I already have his trust, Granger, as you're well aware." Draco tried to push himself up the wall of the alcove in an attempt to use his full height as a means of discouraging her. It would never work and he knew that, but the current psychological disadvantage of being beneath a Mudblood's eye level was one that Draco did not enjoy.

"Whatever you're planning, it's not going to work," Granger hissed, emphasizing her point by briefly cutting off Draco's air supply with her wand.

It occurred to Draco that he was really quite afraid of her sometimes. Like now.

"There's a house elf here that is incredibly loyal to Harry," Granger continued, "And he's been keeping an eye on him since Hogsmede. You're not getting near him, Malfoy."

Considering the pros and cons of revealing his part in the house elf situation was probably the best course of action, but Draco felt he was probably biased at the moment toward getting Granger's wand out of his throat before she spoke one of the many curses housed in that giant brain of hers.

"Who do you think suggested that?" Draco asked, leaning his head as far back against the stone as possible. "Dobby and I go way back, and this time, we had a common goal."

Granger faltered. "Dobby adores Harry, he wouldn't -"

Draco snarled and stood up straight. "The common goal was to protect him, you - Granger." He kept in mind that her wand was still aimed at him, at chest level now. "It's a goal that, as far as I can tell, you and I don't share. How can you not have eighty different spells on him by now that track his every movement?  _Especially_ when you take him out of the castle! Do you know how close you came to losing him  _and_  the war, if someone had gotten hold of him and taken him to the Dark Lord?"

Granger stared at him, blinking, and took a step back. She didn't lower her wand, but there was a respectable distance between them now. Draco could breathe air that wasn't filled with her stink.

"What do you care about whether we lose the war? What are you planning?" Her voice was less belligerent now, more uncertain. He had definitely tipped the scales in his favour.

"Little Potter is...different. From his older self," Draco began. "He's much more clever, much sneakier, much more willing to step out of line."

The corner's of Granger's mouth lifted, in a way that looked almost involuntary, and she opened her mouth to say something. Draco ignored her attempted interruption and continued.

"I like him. The other Slytherins like him. We see little Potter as what teenage Potter could have been: one of us."

Granger's smile vanished.

"Point being: some of us don't really want to turn him over to the Dark Lord. We'd like to avoid the whole situation, really."

Granger stared at him silently. Draco decided that all of this had been far too complicated for her simple mudblood brain. He wondered if she would have had a better time of it if he'd written a book about it, or presented it as a lecture.

"Do you see what I'm saying, Granger?" he asked, just to check. "If, when Potter is dosed with the antidote and is back to normal, he feels that he might want to _..._ reach out to us Slytherins, we will be waiting."

Granger nodded and lowered her wand, still looking astonished. It was as much as Draco could have asked for, and he left.

***

After Draco caught Snape out, their conversation had turned to Draco's concern for his mother. Snape had promised to talk to Dumbledore and work something out, soon.

The note that arrived at lunch the next day, then, was greeted with hope.

"What does Snape want?" Theo asked as Draco slit the parchment open with jerky motions. Little Potter and his guardians weren't at their table. Draco had noticed yesterday that now that Potter's desire for revenge was satisfied, Snape was moving along smoothly with the antidote. It might even be done today, and Draco could find out how teenage Potter would react to his new reputation with the Slytherins.

Draco unfolded the letter and read through it. When he finished, he sat very still and tried to regulate his breathing.

"Draco? Draco, are you okay?"

Somewhere very far away, someone was calling his name. Draco pulled himself back into the Great Hall and looked to the voice. It was Pansy next to him, looking concerned.

"Draco, what's wrong?"

The letter was shaking in Draco's hand, a fine tremor that ran up his arm and into his very bones.

"There's nothing he can do," Draco said, and let the parchment fall from his hand. Fury was beginning to well up in the pit of his stomach, and it spread through to his fingertips. "Dumbledore said he can't help me save my mother. He's going to let her stay there to die when the Dark Lord finds out that I've helped Potter. Which he will. Of course he will."

Theo gripped Draco's arm bracingly, and Pansy put her hand on his shoulder. He hardly noticed. "Oh, Draco," Pansy breathed. "What are you going to do?"

Draco stood. "I'm going to talk to Dumbledore. If he'll tell me to my face that he's going to let my mother be murdered, then... well, maybe I should have just taken Potter to the Dark Lord in the first place."

Pansy's mouth tightened, and Theo's jaw was set, but they both nodded.

"Do you want us to go with you?" Pansy asked, standing when Draco did. He shook his head and left, still shaking with his anger.

***

Outside Dumbledore's office, Draco confronted the gargoyles. They stared at him silently, and Draco's glare did little to persuade them to open. This barrier between him and the source of his ire had the opposite of a calming effect.

When Snape arrived, carrying something that steamed in his hands, he regarded Draco with narrowed eyes for only a moment before speaking the password and allowing Draco to step onto the rotating staircase first.

Draco didn't wait for him, taking the stairs two at a time and bursting into the office before Snape took his first step onto the stairs.

Little Potter was there, and he grinned and waved when he saw Draco. Weasley and Granger were there too, but Draco ignored all three of them and turned his focus on Dumbledore instead.

"You can't help her, or you won't?" he spat. Behind him, little Potter stopped trying to get his attention and subsided into his chair. Dumbledore looked at Draco sorrowfully, and sat back in his chair.

"I am sorry, Mr. Malfoy," he said. "But you must understand-"

"Bull. Shit." Draco enunciated each syllable carefully. "I don't want to hear it. You can help her. You just don't want to. You'd let her die."

Draco was vaguely aware that Weasley had jumped up out of his seat when Draco interrupted Dumbledore, but he didn't really care. This had nothing to do with that git.

"Mr. Malfoy -"

"No." Draco's voice was cold, and he advanced until he was leaning right over the desk, eye to eye with Dumbledore. He glanced at the door, where Snape stood still as a statue, watching the interaction. "You would let  _my mother_  be killed by Voldemort because you don't want to bother. So here's what's going to happen. Either you help me get her somewhere safe, or "

"You don't have the right to tell _Dumbledore_ what to do!" Draco spun around to see Weasley still on his feet, fists clenched and ignoring Granger's quelling hand on his arm. Potter sat huddled in his chair, looking small and watching the scene with wide, frightened eyes.

"Fuck you, Weasley," Draco snarled, his voice thick with venom. "Shut your ugly fucking mouth."

Weasley went dark red with anger. "Good riddance, I say," he retorted. "I think it'd be great if the world had one less Malfoy to deal with"

Draco growled and leapt at him, but Snape's spell held him back just in time to avoid the Weasel's untimely death. Draco clawed at the air, struggling like a fish on a line. His breath was coming heavy, he felt more enraged than he had ever been in his life, and he was about ten seconds from bursting into furious tears. Little Potter had vanished; he was probably hiding. He'd looked terrified.

"Let me  _down_!"

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore began again. Draco's vision darkened.

"I am leaving," he repeated, feeling distant again like he had in the Great Hall. His anger had turned to ice, though his voice didn't reflect it, wavering dangerously. "I am going to tell all the Slytherins that you're a useless old bat, and I am going back to the Manor. I am going to stay there with my mother. I am not leaving her to be brutally murdered because some fucking Gryffindor can't grasp the idea that a Slytherin might have the ability to love his family, and care what happens to them. I'm going. Let me down  _now_."

"Draco," Snape said, as he lowered him to the ground. "We'll find a way. Let me give Potter his potion, and we'll work out a plan."

Draco stared at him, shaking. "Fine," he said. "Fine. I'm going to my dormitory."

Snape released him from the spell, and Draco exited. Pansy, Blaise, Theo and Daphne were all waiting in the hallway nearest to Dumbledore's office when he stepped off the staircase.

"What happened? Potter ran out a couple minutes ago and barely looked at us."

"I'm going," Draco said, and led them briskly down a staircase. He didn't have the mental space right now to think about Potter dashing off alone again. "Fuck Dumbledore. Let's hope Potter has a little bit more sense when he's back to his teenage self. But then, it doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Merlin, Draco," Theo shook his head. The four of them had to jog to keep up with his furious pace. "Where are you going?"

"Where do you think I'm going?"

The rest of the walk down to Slytherin was silent. When they reached the dormitory, Draco packed his things into his trunk and shrank it, stuffing it into a rucksack. He had his wand up his sleeve and his broomstick in hand. He planned to fly to the Manor. He didn't plan to come back.

He said his goodbyes to Pansy, Blaise, Theo and Daphne, who had followed him and watched him pack with sombre eyes. Then he stalked upstairs to the Entrance Hall and out the front doors as the sun set. He wrapped his cloak tightly around his shoulders and mounted his broom. It was going to be a long flight.

***

When Draco first caught sight of Malfoy Manor again, he felt his heart begin to sink. It was his home, but he knew it wasn't his anymore. The Dark Lord had taken it over, and his mother was alone in there, walking a very fine line that Draco had just pushed her off with his stupid heroics. He had to catch her now before it was too late.

He flew through a small gap in the wards above the south gardens, perfectly sized for fliers. He wanted to check on his mother before he announced his presence, and it would be easy enough If he was careful. The Manor was built for subtlety if you knew it well.

He flew low to the ground in the moonlight, skirting around the Venomous Tentacula patch and avoiding the screaming fountains altogether. If no one was staying in his room (and if they were, he'd be horrified), he could climb in through the window like he used to when he was younger and would sneak out to practice Quidditch after bedtime.

He landed on his windowsill and peered inside, feeling a bit of tension leave his chest when he found his rooms empty. He popped the latch and slipped inside, holding his broom aloft as he stepped carefully from the desk to the floor like he had a hundred times before, feeling almost normal.

He lit his wand and checked his rooms more thoroughly. There was an air of neglect about the place; it looked as though no one had come in here since the last time Draco had been here, which was another welcome bit of news.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could do this. He just had to go find his mother before the Dark Lord noticed he was here (which he would). But if he found his mother, everything would be alright.

"Master Draco, sir!"

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin, barely keeping his wand in his hand as he spun around to face the house elf.

"I- What are you -" Draco lost whatever he had been about to say when he saw who it was. "D-Dobby. You-"

Words failed him.

"Dobby is sorry, Master Draco!" Dobby did look sorry. He was twisting his ear with one hand as he spoke. The other hand was being clutched by none other than Harry Potter, age eight, the source of Draco's speechlessness.

"Dobby is very sorry," he continued as Draco gaped at them. "But Master Harry Potter  _ordered_  Dobby to take him to Master Draco, and Master Draco  _ordered_ Dobby to do as Master Harry Potter says and Dobby did not want to because it is time for Master Harry Potter to take his potion and become sixteen again, but Master Harry Potter would not take his potion and _insisted_  and-"

Draco sank into his desk chair, which was a fortunate surprise. He had honestly expected to end up on the floor.

"Dobby," he said faintly. "Why is Potter here? Why? Why would you do this to me, I don't understand…"

Little Potter decided to speak up at this point. "I wanted to see you," he said, and his eyes were big and green and beseeching Draco not to be angry. Draco wasn't really capable of feeling anything but shock at the moment, so Potter was safe there, at least. "They said they're going to change me back and I don't want to go back and you were really upset at Ron and the Headmaster and everyone too and I think they were being awful to you and I wanted you to be okay and help me."

Draco might have whimpered a little bit just then, but he pretended he hadn't.

"Potter, I need you to go back to Hogwarts," he said. Potter shook his head stubbornly. Draco despaired. "Fuck, everyone's going to think I kidnapped you. Potter-"

There was a commotion from the other side of the door. Draco leapt to his feet as his heart nearly burst out of his chest. He fumbled with his wand and cast the strongest sealing wards he knew, and then several others for good measure.

"'Who's in there?" Someone tried the door and found it locked. "Hey! Who's there!"

"Oh no, oh fuck," Draco moaned. "This is not going to end well. Dobby, fix this, then get out of my sight. I can't do this right now."

Dobby twisted his ears anxiously, but he did not take Potter back to Hogwarts like Draco had hoped he would. Instead, he reached tentatively into the pocket of his tiny little trousers and pulled out a vial of potion that Draco recognised from Snape's office.

Draco stared. "Is that Potter's potion?"

Dobby nodded furiously. "Yes, Master Draco! It was time for Master Harry Potter to take his potion but Master Harry Potter was hiding, so Dobby brought the potion to him and Master Harry Potter ordered Dobby to bring him to Master Draco instead so Dobby had to, you see-"

Draco stopped listening. He took the vial of potion away from the elf. Kneeling down in front of Potter, he summoned his most serious face.

"Potter, I need you to drink this for me, okay?"

Potter looked at the potion doubtfully. "It smells gross. I don't want to go back."

Draco bit the inside of his cheek, gathering calm. The person outside had been joined by a friend, and they banged on the door. Draco felt his pulse jump and took Potter's hand in order to drag him into the study, where he pulled a tapestry aside and ran his hands over the rough stone behind it. As he worked, he spoke to Potter and listened with one ear for the sound of his sealing spells snapping.

"Potter, I need you to drink that potion  _now_ ," he said as he searched for the latch that opened the hidden stairwell. "I promise it won't send you anywhere. You'll still be right here with me, unfortunately. …and I promise it tastes good."

Potter seemed sceptical, though interested in Draco's progress with the wall.

"It doesn't smell like it tastes good," he said, and began helping Draco in his search. The Death Eaters were making serious dents in Draco's spells, and from the sound of it, his door too. "It smells like it tastes like dog feet. Why would I want to drink dog feet?"

He found the latch. In another moment they were standing in front of a narrow spiral staircase leading downward. Draco ushered little Potter onto the narrow landing without delay, slid the tapestry back into place, and sealed the door behind them.

"If…" They paused on the landing and Draco took a deep breath. "If you drink this for me, I'll be more okay. You said you wanted me to be okay, right?"

"You'll feel better if I drink it?" Potter narrowed his eyes suspiciously in the dim lighting of the staircase. "Why?"

On the other side of the wall, Draco heard the door bang open. The sounds of a search progressed ever closer to their hiding spot. He knelt down to Potter's level and peered at him with urgency. "Because if you drink this," Draco said, "You won't go away, but you'll be able to help me feel better. You'll be stronger and faster. I need your help, Potter."

Potter considered this for several moments, chewing on his lip. Draco's anxiety grew as he listened to the crashes outside the hidden door draw nearer. Finally,  _finally_ , Potter reached out and took the vial.

"I'll help," he said seriously, and made a face as he downed the potion.

Draco watched on tenterhooks as Potter drank. He blinked once behind his glasses and soon he was aging rapidly. Draco stood up as Potter's height increased, and in barely enough time for Draco to regret giving Potter the potion before going down the stairs, he stood as tall as he'd been at sixteen, staring at Draco through foggy eyes.

"Potter?" Draco asked. Potter nodded and blinked rapidly and put a hand to his forehead.

"I… right, hang on, I just…" He squeezed his eyes shut and swayed dangerously. Draco caught his shoulders and held him steady as he gathered his wits. From the sound of it, there were several Death Eaters roaming through Draco's rooms, searching for the source of the noises they'd heard and the reason why it might have been locked. They were also making a game of breaking everything in sight, from what Draco could surmise.

"Listen, Potter," Draco whispered in a strained voice. "I know you've just gone through a pretty interesting change and you're probably not really over being eight just yet. But I'm not good at this sort of thing." He flinched as raucous laughter floated through the hidden door that separated them from certain death. It looked less comfortingly sturdy than it had a minute ago.

Draco tightened his grip on Potter's shoulders and found himself leaning rather than holding up. "I really need you to get your head together quickly. Do your big hero thing and save the day. That'd be really lovely, actually, if you could do that right about now?"

Potter opened one eye and looked up at Draco through his fringe, still holding his head. "Malfoy, calm down."

Draco stared at him. "Calm- calm down? We- at least you remember my name now, thank Merlin, but I am not going to calm down, Potter!" He clutched at Potter's shoulders, listening to his own whispers become shrill with panic. "Those are Death Eaters out there and they're going to find us here and think I've been hiding  _you_ in  _my rooms_  and, and that does not look good for me!"

"Malfoy-" Potter took hold of both his arms and met his gaze steadily. "It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay, remember? I'm going to help you."

Draco felt himself sagging against his will. Potter held him up by his elbows and glanced at the stairs as he waited for Draco to regain his composure. On the other side of the wall, it sounded like the Death Eaters were having a good time of wrecking Draco's rooms. They couldn't possibly know who they'd been looking for. This thought did nothing to comfort Draco. They'd find out soon enough if they found the door behind the tapestry.

Potter let go of one of Draco's arms and took off his glasses, speaking in a low voice. "Look, I don't have a wand. My clothing has adjustable spells on but my glasses don't. Can I use yours to fix these?"

Draco stopped picturing their very messy deaths for a second to look down at the too-small glasses. "Fix- ?"

"Yeah." Potter grinned at him. "Can't do much if I can't see."

Draco did not grin back. There was nothing to smile about. Potter didn't have any way to defend himself or Draco. They were both going to die. Draco handed over his wand, figuring that they might as well both die with a crystal clear view of their captors. He felt strangely better for it.

Potter tapped the glasses and raised his eyebrows. He settled the newly resized frames back on his nose.

"Can I…" He held up the wand and gestured vaguely with it. "This works really well for me. Can I hold on to it for a while? I promise I won't let you get hurt."

Draco hesitated, not really okay with surrendering the only source of strength and comfort he had to Potter. But Potter was eerily calm despite the Death Eaters on the other side of the wall. Draco had to admit that of the two of them, Potter knew what he was doing.

"I promise," Potter repeated. Draco sucked in a noisy breath and nodded wordlessly. He watched as Potter tapped his own head, sluicing disillusionment over himself like water. The Death Eaters outside roared with laughter again. Draco could only assume they played games like this all the time, and swallowed hard as he thought again of his mother.

"Can I do you too?" When Draco nodded, he felt a sharp crack at his crown and cold dripping over him that told him he was now as invisible as Potter. He examined his arms to confirm it. "Where do these stairs lead?" Potter asked as Draco looked through himself.

"Down a few floors," Draco said, glancing at the door. "You can leave the staircase from a few of the landings, but most of them come out in servants quarters or open corridors. Two leave the building altogether, and the landing two down puts you on the roof."

Potter glanced at him. "How do we get to your mother?"

Draco swallowed. "The fastest way requires a few open corridors."

Potter nodded. "We'll have to be extra careful, then. C'mon, Malfoy."

Draco followed in a near daze as Potter set off down the stairs, pausing at each landing so Draco could decide whether this was the right corridor or not. The number of landings they had climbed down had little to do with where they actually were in the Manor, else they would have ended up in the dungeons by now. It was a useful passage, though before tonight, Draco had never used it for anything more serious than sneaking past his parents to the kitchen to spoil his dinner.

"If we use this one," Draco said a few floors after the sounds of the Death Eaters had faded away, "We'll come out three hallways from my mother's rooms. I don't know what'll be out there, though. If there are werewolves…"

He didn't have to finish his sentence. Potter's silence was appropriately solemn, so Draco assumed he got the implication. A disillusionment charm did nothing to hide their scent.

"Right," Potter said in a firm voice. "Nothing else for it, I suppose."

They cracked open the door and peered out of the portrait that hid the entrance in this corridor. The corridor was empty, though the portrait wasn't.

"Greetings to you, young Draco!" Great Uncle Cygnus was visibly pleased to have them drop by, and kept his voice down in deference to the disillusionment. "Good to hear your voice again."

"Hello," Draco responded in kind. "Do you know if there's anyone in the halls between here and my mother's rooms?"

Potter stood silently beside Draco as Cygnus contemplated the question.

"I would say yes," he said after a while. "I haven't seen any werewolves in the past couple days, though, so you're in luck there."

Draco felt a twinge of relief, and for once didn't mind how nosy the portraits in Malfoy Manor could be.

"We'd best be on our way, then," Potter said, drawing Draco's wand. Draco opened the portrait unwillingly and they both slipped out into the corridor.

"Stay close," Potter hissed as they crept along. "I don't want us getting separated."

Despite the bone deep panic he'd been coasting on since Potter's arrival, Draco couldn't help but sneer a little. If one of them was likely to wander off, it wasn't him.

They hugged the walls as they walked so as not to give away their position to anyone watching. Draco directed them with nearly inaudible whispers, and Potter checked around corners and stared intently down intersecting hallways before they crossed them.

Draco started to think they might really make it to his mother's rooms with no serious obstacles. But then, he'd forgotten that one benefit to being a nosy portrait was that when it came to knowing the comings and goings of the Manor, you were never wrong.

Potter stuck his head around the corner leading to the hallway that contained the entrance to his mothers rooms, and pulled back quickly. Draco could see the faint outline of his hair as it whipped back against his faintly outlined forehead.

"What?"

"Death Eaters."

"Shit."

"A lot of them."

Potter's voice had darkened. He sounded almost menacing.

"Shit," Draco repeated. He tilted his head so that he could look at the vague, blurry space where Potter's head was. "Potter."

"The Lestranges are there," Potter said in an ominous tone. "Bellatrix is there.


	4. The End

Draco fumbled around in the air in front of him and grabbed Potter's wrist.

"I don't give a fuck what your issue is with her," he whispered harshly near what he assumed was Potter's ear. "We are not here for a showdown. I am here to protect my mother. You are here because you were stupid and naïve as a kid."

Potter made an aborted attempt to pull away. "Fuck off. I'm here because I was worried about you," he hissed back. "But she killed my godfather."

"Potter," Draco said, reaching for a calm he didn't have. "I mean this in the best possible way, don't get me wrong. But I don't give a fuck what she did. I'm not sacrificing my mother to your grudge against her sister."

Potter's arm tensed where Draco had grabbed it. "I forgot. She's your aunt. Is that why you don't want me to kill her?"

Draco wrenched Potter's wrist roughly to make him pay attention. "No!" he whispered. "Do what you want; see if I give a damn. She killed my favourite owl last summer because it wouldn't give her a letter addressed to me from Pansy of all people. She's crazy. But let me get to my mother first."

Potter went silent, and Draco prepared for him to tug his arm away and sprint out into the hall waving Draco's wand like a Gryffindor.

"There are five of them," Potter whispered instead. Draco sucked in a breath. Maybe they were actually going to do this the not-insane way. "Which door leads to your mother's room?"

Draco moved slowly around Potter, poking his head around the corner just far enough to get his bearings. "Third door down on the left hand side," he said. "She'll have it locked. We'll need to get rid of them before we can get inside. She's not going to let just anyone in."

They stood in silence a few moments longer, and Draco watched the Death Eaters. They were standing in a loose knot near the staircase, talking. Aunt Bellatrix was there, gesticulating broadly, eyes as mad as ever. Draco remembered meeting her for the first time that summer. He hadn't wanted to be near her then, and not much had changed in the interim.

"Right," Potter said finally. "Here's what we'll do. I'll distract them, get them out of this hall, and you get to your mum. We'll-"

"Hang on," Draco said. "How do you plan to distract them? Keep in mind that if you die here, it'll look to everyone at Hogwarts like I kidnapped you and sacrificed cute little eight year old Harry Potter to the Dark Lord. Even the Slytherins will frown on that."

Potter huffed quietly. "I know that, Malfoy. I'm not going to get myself killed."

"I wish you could see my face right now Potter. Words aren't sufficient to express my scepticism."

"Look, I'll just… make a loud noise in one of the other halls and they'll run to investigate and I'll be back here before you know it."

Draco considered this. It had worked on Granger and Weasley, but then, they weren't too bright. But then, that had really only worked because Potter knew Hogwarts like the back of his hand, even as a kid. And Draco knew…

He swallowed and eyed the Death Eaters standing near his mother's door again. No matter which way he looked at it, he reached the same conclusion. He felt his heart start to bang against his ribcage again as he made his decision.

"Yeah, that might work," he allowed, trying hard to force the shake from his voice. "But… and I really hate to say this," he glanced at the Death Eaters again and rubbed his clammy hands on his robes. "I think I should be the one to distract them."

Potter didn't reply, though Draco thought he could feel an invisible gaze on the back of his invisible neck. He turned around and clenched his fists.

"I'll go into another corridor and make a loud noise. Once they leave, you get to the door.  _Wait until they leave._ And don't do anything stupid. Tell her you're here with me and she should let you in. I'll lead them away and get back to you and we'll get out of here."

It all sounded very simple when Draco laid it out like that. He almost felt like he could do it, if he didn't look back around the corner at what he was facing.

Potter's hand found Draco's arm, and squeezed it reassuringly. "I won't do anything stupid to mess up your plan," he whispered, and Draco choked back hysterical laughter.

"Thanks, Potter," he said, and headed back in the direction they'd come from. He nearly stumbled; the jittery feeling that sat behind his eyes and poked holes in his chest made him slightly dizzy. There was another passage down this hallway that, while not hidden, wasn't very well known. Draco could whip up some alarm in the portraits, smash the mirror with the hideous baroque frame he'd always hated, and duck through the passage and out into a corridor one floor down that would lead right to the staircase outside his mother's rooms.

When he reached the passage he'd had in mind, Draco swallowed his nerves as best he could and caught the attention of great aunt Walburga. She was one of the loudest portraits they had in the Manor. As one of Narcissa's closer aunts, she had a frame here and another in her ancestral home, but fortunately for Draco, she'd been here more often than not in the past year.

"Good evening, Aunt Walburga," Draco said, and was proud of how steady his voice sounded. Walburga nodded her head in greeting and took Draco's lack of physical presence in stride. "It's a shame about aunt Bellatrix, isn't it?" he said airily. "How she left her husband for that filthy half breed banshee."

Walburga stiffened. "She  _what?_ "

"Yes," Draco continued in a blithe tone, leaning on the mirror and listening to it creak satisfyingly. "It's almost as bad as aunt Andromeda and that Muggle she married. I hear they had offspring that married a half breed too! A werewolf! And a mudblood, to boot!"

Walburga glared at the elderly Malfoy sniggering in a portrait on the opposite wall. "Young man-"

"I hear aunt Bellatrix might even be expecting a child with the half breed soon!" Draco and his great grandfather shuddered in mutual disgust. "The last generation of Blacks are going out in disgrace, as far as I can tell."

That was the final straw for Walburga. The entire East Wing would hear her shrieks, no question. Draco shoved the mirror behind him as he stepped away from it, knocking it loose from the decrepit sticking charm that had attached it to the wall since before Draco was born.

The splintering crash drowned out even Walburga as pieces of the mirror bounced and shattered across the stone floor. Draco ducked into the passage as he heard the sound of many pairs of boots pounding toward the corridor he'd just vacated.

Abraxas seemed to find Draco's antics amusing, if his guffaws were anything to go by. He had probably never liked that mirror either.

Draco dashed down the passage, knowing he could count on his great grandfather to keep the Death Eaters from following. A Malfoy's loyalty was to the family first, and even Walburga would pay respect to the Malfoys whose Manor she was a guest in before giving him away to her niece.

Draco checked the corridor leading to the staircase before emerging, and felt his breath rush out of him as he watched several Death Eaters rushing up the staircase toward his mother's room, probably on their way to investigate the cacophony. After they reached the top, Draco hastened to the stairs and flew up them, praying that Potter had already gotten into his mother's rooms.

As he rounded the corner on the landing, he saw that his hopes had been in vain; not only had Potter not managed to get to safety, he'd also managed to leap headfirst into danger and was duelling with the Death Eaters. It was very little solace that he had kept the advantage of the disillusionment, though it had worn off significantly enough that Draco could see a broad outline of Potter's shape. The git could have just avoided calling attention to himself altogether, but no.

Draco backed into the corner on the landing, thinking that if he could sort of see Potter, then his own disillusionment was probably wearing off too. He hoped against hope that none of the other Death Eaters came upon him in his current wandless state.

Potter seemed to be enjoying himself in a insane sort of way. At the very least, he was doing well. He'd downed two of the Death Eaters already, and was trading spells frenetically with the last of them. Draco thought briefly about making himself useful, but a stray curse hitting the wall across from his hiding spot made up his mind for him: staying out of the way was the best option.

His plan of non-interference fell to the wayside, though, when Potter backed the Death Eater up to the landing and Draco saw an opportunity. He reached out from his corner when he saw a gap in the curses and pushed.

Potter paused and watched the Death Eater topple down the staircase. He approached the landing cautiously, wand at the ready, and peered at the crumpled form at the bottom of the steps. The Death Eater didn't move again.

"You're an idiot."

"Merlin, Malfoy, that was you?" Potter jumped at the sound of Draco's voice, to his deep satisfaction.

"Yes, that was me," Draco reached out and hit Potter's elbow. He grabbed it and pulled him toward his mother's door. "What happened to 'I won't do anything stupid to mess up your plan'? That was stupid."

"She wouldn't let me in," Potter explained, sounding frustrated. "She doesn't believe I'm with you. She doesn't even believe I'm me. Your mum is paranoid."

"Her house is full of Death Eaters!" Draco hissed, glaring ineffectually at the slight to his mother and shoving Potter away. He stepped up close to the door, pressed one hand flat against it, and spoke softly. "Mum? It's me. It's Draco. Let us in, please. The Death Eaters will be back soon."

Draco could hear his mother breathing on the other side of the door. They were separated by two inches of solid wood, but considering how much effort it had taken to get this far, it felt like a continent. Draco wished she would just open the door.

"Sweetheart," she said in a low voice. "Is it really you?"

Draco clenched his hand into a fist and flattened it against the door convulsively. He cleared his throat and answered. "It's me, mum. Please hurry and let us in. I promise it's me."

Narcissa's breath caught in her throat as she tried to speak. "When you were six years old and your father took you out flying on your own for the first time…"

Draco glanced behind him. Though he couldn't see Potter well, he could feel his presence still standing close. "I flew so high I left the wards and you didn't want me to touch a broom for another six weeks. It only ended up being three, though."

There was a silence on the other side of the door. Draco stared at the door, willing her to open it.

There was a noise from down the hall, and Potter shifted uneasily behind him. Draco pressed his forehead against the door. "Mum, please hurry."

The door cracked open suddenly and Draco got his first glimpse of his mother in months. She gazed around the door frame, eyes taking in the apparently empty corridor with a crease between her brows. She looked tired and anxious.

Draco reached out and touched her arm where she held the door.

"I'm right here," he whispered. "Let us in."

Narcissa stepped back and let Draco and Potter enter, then closed the door and warded it securely behind them.

"Draco?" she asked, her eyes the only part of her that moved as she tried to see through his disillusionment. Potter obligingly removed the spell from Draco first, then himself.

Draco stepped forward and hugged his mother immediately. A small smile slid across her face when she could finally see him.

"What are you doing here, Draco?"

"Are you okay, mum?" he asked in a low tone as she embraced him in return. She nodded and lifted a hand to smooth fondly against his jaw.

"I'm fine, darling. Answer my question."

"We're leaving," Draco said. "I'm not joining the Dark Lord."

Something much more profound than relief settled on Narcissa's tired face. She stepped forward abruptly and reached up to kiss him on the cheek.

"Thank you, Draco." She glanced over his shoulder at Potter and her gaze sharpened. "It's very dangerous for you to be here, Mr. Potter," she said. Potter nodded once.

"All the more reason for us to leave as soon as possible," he pointed out.

Narcissa seemed to agree, because she turned around, summoned several house elves, and set them to packing her things.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," she said. A harsh sound from behind Draco had them both turning around to face Potter. Narcissa reached out toward him in concern. "…Are you alright?"

Potter had pressed his palm to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. "Fuck," he said, and made the harsh noise again: a mangled gasp or half a sob, Draco wasn't sure.

"Potter?" Draco grabbed his upper arm as Potter grasped blindly for something to hold him up and doubled over anyway.

"He knows," Potter gasped. Draco stared. "He knows I'm here. He knows we're here. He's coming. Voldemort."

Draco snatched his hand away from Potter as though he'd been burned. He and his mother took several steps backward. In Narcissa's case, she was moving to give further instructions to the house elves.

"Take everything," she snapped. "Obey only Malfoy orders from now on. Protect yourselves when necessary."

She turned back to Draco, who had recovered from his shock when Potter really started falling over. Currently, Draco was the only thing keeping him from crashing to the floor. Potter had nearly gone to his knees, in severe pain. "He's furious," he choked out. "He's coming."

The panic that had receded when Draco finally found his mother returned full force. It was positively creepy, the way Potter was carrying on, and if he was right… it hardly bore thinking about.

"Draco," Narcissa asked, "Are you able to leave the way you came? Go quickly and I will follow."

"I came here by broom," Draco said helplessly. "I don't even know if he can fly like this."

Footsteps approached Narcissa's warded rooms, and a sudden explosion bowed the door inward on its hinges.

"Sister, dearest!" Bellatrix's cheerful voice rang through the walls. "Let me in! We need to  _talk_."

Potter tried to straighten up, gripping Draco's upper arm with one hand and his own forehead with the other. "You've got your mum," Potter said. Draco shook his head, wrenching his arm away from Potter and watching him stumble with a raised eyebrow. Potter took his point, though he took it badly. "Fuck you," he muttered, and managed to stand on his own until another, much more powerful blast blew the door off its hinges. Because of the spells on the rooms, some of them ancient, the door stayed where it was, though the look Draco shared with his mother said clearly enough that another blast would change that.

Potter sagged to his knees at the force of the blast, and Draco didn't need Potter's verbal confirmation to realise who's wand was on the other side of his mother's bedroom door.

Narcissa eyed Potter with an intense sort of calm that Draco couldn't even have pretended to at the moment. "Get him on the broom."

In under fifteen seconds, Draco and Narcissa managed to manoeuvre Potter onto the back of a house elf provided broom. Potter was aware enough to know to cling onto Draco's middle, but was otherwise insensible, pressing his forehead hard against Draco's upper back and gasping random words. It was almost like he was arguing with someone who wasn't there, which was unnerving.

Narcissa flung open the balcony doors and turned. "Go, Draco," she said in a firm tone. He paused in the air on the balcony and waited for her pointedly.

She took a cloak as a house elf handed it to her and swirled it around her shoulders. The elf handed her a broom and a small trunk next. She pocketed the trunk with haste and mounted the broom. She looked up at Draco, eyes glinting. "Go."

They flew out of her rooms and into the skies at top speed. They could dimly hear shouts from Narcissa's emptied room, but they were already high above the Manor, sliding out through the gaps in the wards meant for exactly this sort of situation. Draco had never thought he would have to escape from his own home, but he had to admit that the paranoia of previous generations of the Malfoy family had served their progeny well. The wards sealed themselves after both Malfoys fled the property, and none of the Death Eaters still on the grounds were able to follow them out.

Draco flew as fast as his broom would go with two passengers, and Narcissa kept up easily. The further away from the Manor they soared, the more alert Potter became, until Draco could feel his grip firm and was no longer worried about him falling off the broom midflight.

"What happened?" he asked, voice muffled by Draco's cloak.

"We're okay," Draco said shortly. "I'm okay, you're okay, Mother's okay. We're all okay."

Potter sagged slightly and pressed his forehead to Draco's back again. "I really wanted to kill Bellatrix."

Draco felt hysterical laughter bubbling up inside him, and forcibly suppressed it. He would crash the broom if he gave into that sort of emotion right now.

"Maybe next time," he said instead.

***

The flight to Hogwarts was subdued. Draco and his mother flew high above the clouds to assure themselves that they weren't being followed. Potter cast warming charms upon request, but was otherwise fairly quiet, until:

"Malfoy."

Draco could hear the frown in his voice. "Yeah, Potter?"

"Did you  _really_ have me sabotage the antidote Snape was making for me?"

Draco didn't answer immediately. They flew in silence for a moment, while Draco debated internally. "You remember everything then?"

"Yeah," Potter said, warming to his topic. "I remember you telling me he was making a potion to turn Hermione into a beaver because he couldn't get away with giving her detention."

"…I might have said that," Draco said, smiling to himself. "You did insist on revenge, Potter. I just wanted to be sure you didn't get hurt," he lied. "That particular potion was harmless if you botched it. The others he was making weren't. You were adamant about getting revenge. It was kind of strange."

"It was a phase I was going through," Potter explained defensively.

"Most children have phases where they refuse to eat their vegetables or they want to fly everywhere instead of walk," Draco explained. "Normal eight year olds do not have revenge phases."

Potter snorted, though Draco couldn't tell if it was in amusement or outrage. "I did."

"That's because you were never normal, Potter. You know that."

There was another silence, long enough that they had nearly reached Hogwarts, before:

"Malfoy."

"Yes, Potter?"

"At Hogsmeade, Crabbe and Goyle really-"

Draco frowned. "Yes."

"And you-"

"Yes."

Potter paused.

"Oh. Good. Er. Be careful when you…"

"When I…?"

"Actually, nevermind."

If they hadn't already reached the winged boars on the edge of the grounds, Draco would have followed up on Potter's vague pronouncement. Instead, they landed at the gates, which unexpectedly allowed all three of them entrance. This made more sense when they realised Snape was waiting just inside for them. He sealed the gates behind them with his wand.

Narcissa drew back, taking Draco with her.

"Severus," she began, but Draco stopped her.

"Mum, it's okay," he said in a low voice. "He's..."

"I am a traitor," Snape said, bowing his head to her. "As is Draco. Hogwarts welcomes you."

Snape led them inside and straight to Dumbledore's office, where the old man appeared delighted to see them. Draco's thoughts about the headmaster still gravitated toward 'useless old bastard', but when he offered Draco's mother asylum, Draco reluctantly allowed that he might not be as worthless as he'd first appeared. He allowed a few more unfavourable thoughts to cross his mind about Dumbledore, but stopped when he caught Snape eyeing him with disapproval and remembered that both Snape and Dumbledore were powerful Legilimens. Draco spent the rest of the meeting looking at either his mother or his hands in his lap and thinking very determinedly about the lemon drops on the desk.

"Mrs. Malfoy, you will be staying in the safest of locations," Dumbledore said, picking up an elaborate quill and writing a short message on a piece of paper, which he then presented to her. "You may use the floo here after you have said your goodbyes."

Draco stood to face his mother, who smiled at him and touched his chin. "I will see you soon, Draco," she promised, and he nodded once. Snape and Dumbledore turned away and were speaking quietly. Potter, who had subsided into his chair after his version of events was presented, watched them with open curiosity, the nosy prat.

Draco watched as his mother read the short message, which caused her to raise an eyebrow even before it burst into flames in her hand. She looked back at Dumbledore, who merely waved her forward with a smile.

"You boys must be tired," Dumbledore said after her departure. Draco turned away from the fireplace and looked at the headmaster. "You have had a trying night."

Snape's quelling glance was unnecessary. Draco's mother was safe, and Draco had manners.

"Thank you, Headmaster," he said. "I am quite tired, thank you. Good night."

"Night, professors," Potter said, jumping up to follow Draco out the door. Draco spared him a glance as they stood on the revolving steps. He should probably say something.

"…thanks for not getting us killed after you nearly got us killed, Potter," he said as they stepped out into the corridor. Unexpectedly, Potter grinned.

"No problem, Malfoy," he said. "You did well after your third panic attack."

Draco opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "I suppose 'This is all your fault, you absolute git' would be very slightly overstating things."

"Especially since you were the one who told Dobby to start following my orders," Potter agreed blithely, stuffing his hands in his robe pockets. "And you were the one who went to Malfoy Manor. And you were the one who made sure my antidote was delayed for so long. And you were the one who-"

"Yes, thank you Potter," Draco grumbled. "Very kind of you to point all that out."

"I live to serve," Potter said, shrugging. He paused at the landing to the staircase Draco needed to take to get to Slytherin. "Listen, Malfoy…"

Draco paused as well, and raised his eyebrows.

"Yes?"

Potter rubbed the back of his neck. "Be careful tonight, alright?"

Draco crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "You said that earlier. Why?"

"I… don't want to spoil the surprise," Potter said, scuffing the toe of one shoe against the stone floor. "But… don't be the first one to go to bed tonight, okay?"

Draco held his position, waiting for Potter to elaborate. Instead, Potter grinned at him and turned on his heel. "Night, Malfoy," he called over his shoulder. "Be careful!"

Draco dropped his arms. "What did you do?" he called after Potter's retreating back. "I  _told_  Pansy not to let you in! Potter!"

Potter began climbing his own staircase. "You think  _Parkinson_  let me in?" He let his laughter float down the stairs as he disappeared, leaving Draco somewhat annoyed, very curious, and generally conflicted. Potter seemed to have become a weird combination of his original self and his younger self. Draco wasn't sure how to approach a Potter he liked.

He checked his watch. Curfew in ten minutes. If he was going to be in Slytherin for the discovery of Potter's treachery, he'd have to move quickly.

He set off down the stairs, making a mental note to change the password to the common room after it all played out. One could never be too careful.


End file.
